The Countryside Restoration Trust is marking twenty years of trying to save
the countryside while the Government continues to fiddle.

There is good news and a great wodge of bad news this week, I am afraid. First the good news: the arrangements for the Countryside Restoration Trust's (CRT) 20th anniversary continue apace with an open day at Lark Rise Farm and a visit from the Wurzels, if they manage to continue drawing breath until July.

I mustn't be too flippant about the passing of time and old age though, being worryingly close to my own allotted time span of 25,550 days – three score years and 10. Where has the time gone? And what happens to me now, after confessing this publicly in a society that is obsessed with Yoof? In the warped, ageist world in which we live, it is a dangerous form of confession to reveal age once the bus-pass has arrived. Oh well.

The next good news is that, in the autumn, we have a big celebration at the Royal Geographical Society in London on October 22. What an array of speakers, including the Prince of Wales (either in person or in digital form), our patron David Shepherd, MPs Zac Goldsmith, Kate Hoey and Richard Benyon, Peter Kendall (president of the NFU), Christopher Booker, a host of doctors, professors, peasants, a reindeer herder, Rory McGrath and me, as well more incredible guests soon to be announced.

It will be a memorable event with a stunning finale. Entry is free and as The Daily Telegraph has been so important and supportive to the CRT, readers are very welcome (see box, below).

Now for the bad news. Sadly there is plenty of it. The wet winter and late spring has been a disaster for both livestock farmers and cereal growers. The late snow and frosts have wreaked havoc, leaving thousands of dead animals, as reported by this paper last week. Thank goodness I always aim to start lambing in April, but even so there have been sharp night-time frosts, biting daytime winds and the grass that is barely growing. How I feel for those upland farmers, who have experienced so much grief and hardship. And of our leaders it is the Prince of Wales, as usual, who has shown the most understanding and support.

People's trials are made worse by our idiotic rules regarding "fallen stock" – dead animals – which have to be collected up by the knacker and incinerated at great cost to the farmer, who is hit twice: first, by the fact of his animals dying, then having to pay for disposal of the bodies. This is due to absurd rules dictated by Brussels, nodded through by our forelock-tugging MEPs and MPs. What a collection of no-hopers they are. Incidentally, why are so many expense-fiddlers still in Parliament, without their collars being felt by PC Plod?

The disposal of dead animals should be simple: dig a hole and bury them. However, in theory, everything from the smallest lamb and day-old chick has to be sent away for incineration (see regulations EC No 1069/2009 and Commission Regulation (EU) No 142/2011). It is true that a number of "derogations" have been made recently, which allow for burial or burning in a few areas until April 15, but it all depends on the whims and fancies of local authority officials. In a more sensible world, the derogations should have been country wide until May 1, or better still, the absurd regulations should have been scrapped forever.

It is ironic that during the 2001 foot-and-mouth catastrophe the carcasses ought to have been buried on site and covered with quick lime. Instead, the great funeral pyres actually helped to spread the disease in the thermals of smoke and hot air, as a proper public inquiry would have revealed.

Now many of those who suffered in the great foot-and-mouth outbreak are suffering again and will not know the full extent of their losses until the snow drifts finally melt away.

Bomber Blair, of course, promised to cut red tape, but such is the tangle of tape covering fallen stock that he never did. Dozy Dave, in his effort to morph into Blair Two, has made the same promise with identical inaction. I cannot ever remember such a galaxy of nonentities pretending to be political leaders.

But the situation is little better for many cereal farmers, with waterlogged land and failed crops that are having to be resown. Already, estimates for the next harvest are suggesting that Britain will be millions of tons short at the end of the year. Of course cereals, particularly barley, can be sown quite late in the spring, but often this is known as "cuckoo barley"; any barley sown after the cuckoo has first been heard is known for its low yields. Now, sadly, we are losing the cuckoos as well as the yields.

Shamefully, the CRT's tenant at Lark Rise Farm has had his sowing season even further disrupted by the theft of his large tractor. Yes, rural crime is the countryside's only booming industry, and I will return to this subject soon.

But added to all the gloom and doom is the absurdity of what is physically happening to Britain. At a time when our food security has never been more greatly compromised, the Government is threatening to cover nearly one million acres of productive agricultural land with houses as Britain continues to be virtually the only First World country with a rapidly growing population. Thank you once again, Bomber Blair and Dozy Dave.

In nature there are limits to growth but with this Government, the only discernible policy seems to be an obsession with growth of a different kind, one based on building and development. Twenty four per cent of Britain's greenhouse gases come from building and 24 per cent of our building materials are imported, at a balance of payments deficit of £1.5 billion per year. On top of this, many of those doing the building (very good workers and craftsmen) are sending money and benefits back to Eastern Europe. Do you have any idea how much is involved, Mr Osborne?

So through house building and population increase, with all the infrastructure of roads, schools and hospitals that accompany them, plus the increase in imported food and energy required, there will certainly be growth; a massive growth in Britain's mountain of debt.

Now for a return to good news. The late, lingering cold weather has led to a boom in the population of bog sparrows coming to feed in our garden. Bog sparrow is an old country name for the reed bunting, an attractive little bird slightly larger and slimmer than a sparrow.

The male has a sooty black head with a vivid white collar, giving it the appearance of an avian clergyman. The female is attractive too with a beautiful blend of browns and duns interspersed with flecks of white. At times we have had six pairs feasting on our feeders and the seeds we sprinkle on the ground. With fewer bogs around, the behaviour of the reed bunting has changed and they have adapted to areas of scrub – perhaps they should be called scrub sparrows.

A scientist I know claims that birds should not be fed artificially in gardens during the winter, as it distorts population numbers. Lulu and I feed them all year round. The question that comes to mind is, what do scientists eat during the winter and should their rations be supplemented with imported food?